Mr Carson's Polishing Apron
by chelsie fan
Summary: Mrs. Hughes finds Mr. Carson in need of some help. Silly, fluffy one-shot. Cover image by brenna-louise!


**A/N This silly, little one-shot grew out of a virtual conversation with evitamockingbird in which she and I expressed our mutual appreciation for Mr. Carson's silver-polishing attire. No substance at all here, just pure, fluffy nonsense. Please leave a review and tell me if you like it! Thank you in advance.**

**(By the way, if anyone is wondering about "Getting On," I'm working on it, but it's "getting on" slowly. Real life is busy, and I keep getting distracted by things like this ridiculous story. "Getting On" will be coming soon, I promise.)**

**Mr. Carson's Polishing Apron**

Mrs. Hughes strode purposefully down the corridor, on her way to her sitting room. She stopped to listen when she heard some unusual sounds emanating from Mr. Carson's pantry. She could make out occasional thumping and bumping, muted grunting and groaning, and mild cursing and swearing. Having truly very little idea what she might encounter inside, she opened the door without knocking.

She stifled a grin and stemmed her laughter at the sight of the butler, red-faced, winded, flustered, and tangled in his polishing apron. The apron had been twisted backwards: the strap that should have been draped over the back of his neck was now wrapped around his throat, and the knot that was supposed to secure the tie at his back was pulled tightly across his midsection. To make matters worse, he'd somehow got his arms stuck inside the apron, and they were currently held fast against his sides. He was struggling desperately to free himself from the offending garment, but to no avail.

"Bloody hell! Damn and blast this confounded piece of - Oh, Mrs. Hughes! I beg your pardon," he apologized breathlessly when he noticed her at the door.

"Mr. Carson? What in the world ... ?" she questioned as she entered and closed the door.

"I think you might guess for yourself what's happened here."

"Yes, I think I might," she said, surveying the scene. The silver had been already been put away, but she spied his cast off sleeve protectors, polishing cloths, and silver polish on the table. "You've been polishing the silver and you've somehow managed to get yourself trapped in your apron."

He was still hopping about the room, twisting and turning, trying to extricate himself.

"That is ... precisely ... what ... has happened," he huffed helplessly between grunts.

"Shall I help you, then?"

"It's quite all right. _Hnf_! I can manage. _Mpt!"_

"I'm sure you can, but it will be rather difficult with your arms pinned to your sides like that. How have you managed to get yourself so badly caught up in that?"

"Yes, well ... When I couldn't untie the knot in back, I tried to twist it round to the front, so that I could see what I was doing. But it was tied so tightly that I still couldn't unfasten it. Then I attempted to push my arms down inside, hoping to slide the whole thing up over my head and shimmy out of it. You can plainly see how that turned out."

"Oh, Mr. Carson, you _have_ got yourself well and truly stuck!" she chuckled.

"Thank you for pointing it out, Mrs. Hughes, but I am most keenly aware of that fact!" he shot back, while continuing to wriggle and squirm. He was becoming more aggravated by the second. In the course of his maneuvering, he bumped into his desk. "Ow!"

"Come now, Mr. Carson. Do let me help."

"All right, then," he conceded with an exasperated sigh. "On my own, I've succeeded only in pulling the knot tighter. Perhaps you _had_ better assist me, before I do myself serious harm."

Mrs. Hughes stepped closer, lifted her hands to his chest, and began to work at the knot. As she toiled silently, she kept her eyes trained resolutely on the stubborn tangle, trying not to meet his eyes. Mr. Carson, for his part, kept his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. He was still red in the face and breathing heavily, and his proximity and agitated condition were making Mrs. Hughes flushed and short of breath, too. He smelled heavenly, and she could feel his warm breath on the top of her head.

"I can't seem to make much progress," she informed him, looking down at the floor. "And if we stand here like this much longer … "

She stopped herself before she said too much, but Mr. Carson urged her to finish.

"If we stand here like this much longer … what?" he asked, regarding her expectantly.

She knew that she should move away and say no more, but she couldn't bring herself to withdraw from him. Nor could she stop herself from saying exactly what was on her mind.

"I'm afraid, if we stand here like this much longer, I might kiss you," Mrs. Hughes told him, still unable to look him in the eyes.

"Then it's imperative that you free me from this apron quickly," he whispered, moving closer. "If you're going to kiss me, then I should very much like to have my arms free, so that I can hold you properly when I kiss you back."

She looked up at him in astonishment and saw that he was just as serious as she. They gazed excitedly at each other for a moment. Then Mrs. Hughes looked down again and attacked the stubborn knot with renewed vigor. Mr. Carson rested his forehead anxiously against hers while she worked.

After grappling with the apron tie for a minute or so, Mrs. Hughes announced, "I can't manage to undo it completely, but I think I've loosened it a bit. Do you think you might try to slide your arms out now?"

Mr. Carson succeeded in freeing one arm and then the other. Mrs. Hughes slipped the neck strap over his head, gently brushing her fingers against his face and hair as she did so. Then he lifted his arms and allowed her to slide the apron over his chest and back. While she was pulling it loose, she relished the opportunity to run her hands over his broad chest and to wrap her arms around him to reach his strong back. At last, she drew the obstinate attire over his arms and head, letting it fall to the floor, and Mr. Carson was free.

Wasting no time, Mrs. Hughes returned her hands to his solid chest, and he settled his recently liberated hands on her hips. He slowly leaned down towards her, and she rose on her toes to meet him.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips.

"I love you, too," she breathed against his mouth.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Several weeks later, on their wedding night, Mrs. Carson sauntered seductively into the bedroom, wearing some new lingerie, purchased expressly for the special occasion. She stopped short after two steps at the sight of her husband, clad only in his polishing apron and sleeve protectors.

"I'm sorry, love. I must have knotted it too tightly. I seem to be stuck once again," said Mr. Carson with a twinkle in his eye and a raised eyebrow. "I should be most grateful if you could provide some assistance."

She was only too happy to comply.


End file.
